No Place to Hide
by RyansDreamMaker
Summary: She waits, standing straight and unafraid of the monster coming her way. Fear would be pointless now, anyway. It's not like there's any place to hide. Please read the warnings inside!


**WARNING: This story contains suicide references and attempts, forced relationships, and implied sexual content.** Please heed this warning and know your own limits.

That being said, this is not a happy Charloe story. This is a crazy General Monroe story that got a little out of hand as I was writing and poor Charlie pays the price for it.

* * *

The room the soldiers shoved her in is the strangest prison cell she's ever seen. An enormous canopy bed with fluffy white sheets and beautiful dark wooden furniture pieces fill the room. If it weren't for the fact that she's a prisoner, Charlie might be excited to spend a few days in luxury here.

But she is a prisoner.

The clock tower room of Independence Hall is dimly lit in the early hours of the morning, though she watches through the window as the moon passes and the sun begins to rise.

 _Monroe should be awake soon,_ she thinks. His men had been too fearful to wake him in the dead of night despite their glorious catch. She waits, standing straight and unafraid of the monster coming her way. Fear would be pointless now, anyway. It's not like there's any place to hide.

The slow _thunk, thunk, thunk,_ of heavy boots on the polished hardwood floors gives her only moments to prepare for his arrival. The fear she's pretending not to feel makes her heart race in her chest, the blood pounding in her ears almost masking the creak of the door when it opens.

"Good morning, Charlotte."

She won't look at him. Won't give him the satisfaction. She's worked too hard and come too far to let him patronize her now. Instead she focuses on the dust swirling in the light streaming through the window.

"That was very stupid of you," Monroe says, his voice soft but full of unmasked menace. "Did you really think you could break into my house and rescue your brother all by yourself?"

Determined as she was not to speak, the condescending tone in his voice makes her blood boil.

The smug bastard.

"What makes you think I came here alone?"

The chuckle that escapes his lips is genuine and altogether worse than any torture he could inflict. Monroe steps closer to her, though Charlie still refuses to look at him. It occurs to her that he could simply stab her in the back this way, but really, if he was going to kill her he would have done it already.

"I know you're here alone because if you weren't, then Miles would have come to rescue you already."

It hits her like a blow to the stomach. The honesty, the truth in his words.

 _But Miles will come,_ she tells herself. _He has too._

Apparently her silence is as good as any confession. Monroe steps closer, the front of his uniform jacket brushing against the worn leather of her own, his breath warm in her ear.

"You failed to save your brother, Charlotte. Now who is going to save you?"

The _thunk, thunk, thunk,_ of his retreating footsteps gives her the space to breathe and lets her courage grow.

"Miles will come for me," she tells him.

Monroe's laughter booms across the small room, shocking her from her own decision not to look at him. His face is split in a wide, maddening smile, his perfect white teeth glinting dangerously in the morning sunlight.

"That's exactly what your mother used to say."

As the door slams closed and the lock clicks into place, Charlie realizes that maybe, just maybe, Monroe might be right.

* * *

The days pass by in a blur now. Her only true knowledge of time is the rising and setting of the sun, though sometimes she wonders if he has somehow managed to control that too. It feels as if many years have passed but it can't possibly have been more than a few weeks.

Charlie has only just now started admitting to herself that Miles is not coming. It's been too long. He probably thinks she's dead. He's probably holed up somewhere with her mother, "grieving."

The sadness that fills her heart is inescapable. She failed to save Danny and sealed her own fate in the process. Miles has forgotten about her. There is nothing left.

She stops eating the simple meals that the maids bring up for her, stops washing in the warm baths they prepare. In fact, she stops altogether. Now that she's thinking about it, it's been quite some time since she moved from this spot in the corner, huddled with her knees pulled close to her chest.

Her body aches with exhaustion. Her stomach clenches uncomfortably with every harsh breath that passes through her cracked lips.

 _Dehydration,_ she thinks. She'd seen it a few times back when Maggie had been around. People that couldn't find a clean water source that started rambling incoherently and would have died had they not spoon fed them back to normal.

At this point, death will be the only way she can beat Monroe. It's the only thing he can not control.

 _It's alright,_ she tells herself. _I'm almost there._

* * *

The maids are starting to talk, not even bothering to whisper around the frail young woman cowering in her corner. Charlie thinks she probably should be worried, but she can't seem to muster up the energy.

* * *

Monroe comes to visit again, though whether it's the same day or the next is unclear. His face wobbles in and out of focus and his voice scratches unpleasantly at her eardrums when he speaks.

"You've not had your dinner, Charlotte."

Maybe it's the self-imposed starvation talking, but Monroe almost seems concerned.

Now he's close to her again. Crouched down in front of her with a bowl of some kind of liquid close to her lips.

"Drink." He commands.

But she doesn't. She won't.

"You can't keep me here forever," she rasps.

The affect her words have on him is unclear. He leaves the bowl on the floor in front of her and dissappear, whether through the door or into thin air her addled brain can't tell.

The bowl sits on the floor in front of her, mocking her with contents. So she kicks it over, letting the warm liquid puddle around her feet.

* * *

Eternity passes and suddenly there's a boy here to see her. He has soft blonde hair and kind brown eyes. The gentleness with which he raises the bowl to her lips causes her to question him.

"Danny?"

He shushes her gently, setting the rim of the warm bowl against her bottom lip. "It's alright, Charlie. Just drink."

Her first instinct is to obey. Natural trust built over years of watching out for each other tries to convince her, but something dark and heavy holds her back.

"I can't... Monroe."

"Shhh. I know. I know. But he said if you get better, he'll let us see each other more."

And then it hits her. Danny, her baby brother, the entire reason she's even in this mess, is here. He's safe and sound, right in front of her.

Charlie parts her cracked lips with difficulty, though doesn't struggle as Danny coaxes the small bowl of broth into her system. It makes her feel stronger but lightheaded at the same time. The world blurs, and she rests.

* * *

She wakes in the canopy bed dressed in a frilly, white nightgown. Her limbs ache with disuse but her mind is now fully her own again. She berates herself for letting Monroe use Danny against her like that. But now that she knows Danny is safe, she can't let herself die here. She has to save him. Save them both.

* * *

When Monroe comes to visit again, she's wearing one of the Presidentially approved dresses that have been provided for her. He stalks into the room, his eyes unashamedly filled with lust.

"You look much better," he says conversationally.

"Where's Danny?" Charlie demands. He's the reason she is still alive, so he is who she will fight for.

"Your brother is... occupied at the moment."

"You said if I got better I could see him," she says desperately.

"And you will, but I have conditions." His eyes rake over her body in the form fitting dress, his feet bringing close enough that she can feel his breath fanning across her face. The scent of whiskey make her stomach churn and she has to swallow down the bile in her throat.

"What do you want from me?" Charlie asks him, though the look in his eyes is entirely clear.

"You know what I want Charlotte," he whispers. "Give it to me, and you will see your brother again."

It's humiliating, the fact that she's actually considering this. Is she so lost and desperate that she might give in to this monster?

 _Yes. Yes she is._

"I want your word that I will see Danny again."

Monroe grins wickedly, a man who knows he's about to get what he wants. "You have my word, Charlotte."

She nods imperceptibly, the only consent that Monroe needs. His greedy hands seek out her flesh, his harsh lips overtaking her own. She gags on the taste of his whiskey tongue, winces at the roughness of his hands, and sheds silent tears as he moves over her, his own greedy pleasure his only care in the world.

When he leaves, she vomits so violently that her entire body shakes. Fluids drip from her mouth and nose, and the unspeakable places he'd touched. Charlie lays on the floor beside her bucket of bile and sobs.

* * *

After several more visits from him and not getting to see Danny, Charlie confronts him as he redresses.

"I want to see Danny."

Monroe sighs, his broad shoulders heaving with the effort. "You will. Just be good."

Then he leaves.

* * *

In retrospect, she should have realized that this was his plan all along. As she sits in the rocking chair cradling her swollen belly, she realizes the mistake that she's made. Her new bedroom is attached to the small nursery and Monroe's bedroom is on the opposite side. He seems to enjoy having her closer to him and her pregnancy has done nothing to dull his enthusiasm.

She's long since learned not to ask about Danny anymore. Whenever she does, Monroe becomes angry and particularly rough. Despite the fact that the pregnancy was not by her choosing, Charlie feels incredibly protective of her unborn child. She doesn't like to upset Monroe for fear that he may take it out on the baby.

So she stays quiet. Loaning herself out for Monroe's sadistic pleasure with the hopes that maybe someday he will let her see Danny again.

* * *

The baby is beautiful and healthy. His little lungs are in perfect condition, her sleepless nights can attest. Monroe has had little to do with the child's care. He usually stays long enough to kiss his son's bald, little head and caress her cheek with possessive fingers.

The doctor had warned him of her body's need to recover, but that hasn't stopped him from calling her to his bed to please him with other methods.

The child's name is so far the only kindness Monroe has shown her.

"I thought we might name him Benjamin. In honor of your father." He'd explained quietly.

Tears had gathered in her eyes, a gentle warmth in her heart at the thought of Benjamin, her infant son.

"Thank you."

The words had slipped from her lips automatically. She'd grown so used to his expectations where manners were concerned that she couldn't stop the response. The effect it had on him was sickeningly unpleasant. He'd smiled and kissed her, slowly, as if to savor the moment.

"I knew you'd come around." He'd said afterwards.

The thought of it still makes her sick to her stomach.

* * *

At a young twelve weeks old, the baby is thriving. The blonde crown growing on his head is angelic, his pale blue eyes pierce through her soul. Monroe's interest in Benny has grown as the baby has become more aware of the world around him. Monroe's interest in her has grown as well, no doubt with the intent to bring about another child. Charlie attempts to fend him off politely, feigning headaches and stomach problems, but it only lasts for a few days. When the doctor clears her of all illnesses, it's right back to business as usual.

As she lays in the silence of Monroe's bedroom, his body partially draped over her own, his fingers caressing her bare hip, she finally gathers the courage to ask about Danny.

"When can I see my brother again?"

The effect is instantaneous. His hand clenches painfully on her hip, his breath puffing angrily against the side of her neck. But then he sighs. It's a tired sound, weary, and resolved. He moves away from her to his side of the bed and burries himself under the covers.

"Soon. Now go to your room."

Glad to be dismissed, Charlie gathers her clothes and hurries into the nursery to redress, kisses Benny goodnight, and goes to her room with the promise of seeing Danny soon.

* * *

As she puts Benny down for his morning nap, Monroe comes in with a woman not much older than herself who is balancing a baby of her own on one hip.

"What's going on?" Charlie asks uncertainly.

"Alexis will be watching Benjamin for the day."

She looks at the woman, whom she's never seen before, and back to Monroe. "Why?"

He grunts in the way that tells her he's getting irritated so she amends the question. "I don't understand. I can take care of him myself."

"We're going on a trip and taking Benjamin with us would be... inconvenient. So Alexis will care for him while we're gone."

Charlie's heart flutters at the thought of leaving this god forsaken house. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to see your brother," he answers softly. Before she can react he quickly turns away, striding purposefully from the room. "Now get your coat. We leave in five minutes."

There's only time to grab her coat and yank on her boots, drag a brush through her hair and kiss Benny goodbye before Monroe is ushering her out the door.

"Bye, bye Benny." She calls from the doorway, listening to her son coo in return.

They ride silently along in the carriage. Something is certainly bothering Monroe but Charlie's own nerves are too bad to take much notice.

 _I finally get to see Danny again,_ she thinks excitedly.

The sun covers her face with warm light as she descends the carriage steps. It takes several moments for her eyes to adjust to the bright light around her so she lets Monroe lead her down a gravel path. There's something strange about where they are but she can't seem to put her finger on it. She's still too shocked about actually being allowed outside for a change.

Monroe pulls them to a halt on a seemingly random patch of grass, that is, until Charlie notices the large rock at her feet.

 _DANIEL MATHESON_

 _2009-2020_

The air seems to get sucked out of her lungs as the realization that this is Danny's grave hits her. Charlie sinks to her knees in front of the stone, her fingers tracing the letters of his name as the tears run down her face. Her baby brother, the picture for all that was good, is gone. The knowledge that Monroe is responsible falls on top of her like a weight.

"You did this," she growls, refusing to look back at the monster standing behind her. He doesn't answer. Doesn't bother with a denial, causing her anger to flush away, leaving her empty and broken hearted.

"But you said I could see him again." She cries. "I was good."

A soft sigh escapes Monroe's lips, just loud enough for her to hear. "I know I did, Charlotte. And now you will."

The last thing she remembers is hearing a sound she'd thought she'd long since forgotten. The sound of metal on metal, the tiny click of the hammer on a gun. Then, _bliss._


End file.
